


this is how it works, and this is how it doesn't.

by orphan_account



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Gen, Sad, malfunction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rabbit suffers a core malfunction of dangerous proportions, and no one is sure how to fix it. Time is running out -- his malfunctions are growing worse by the day, and there's no telling when things will take a turn for the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curtains close on him, oil dripping down his face and his body violently shuddering. He can feel everything within him struggling to continue its movement, metal pieces as old as he is corroding behind scuffed casing and now oil-soaked clothing.

The curtains close on him, oil dripping down his face and his body violently shuddering. He can feel everything within him struggling to continue its movement, metal pieces as old as he is corroding behind scuffed casing and now oil-soaked clothing. If he could hear, he’s sure he’d be able to hear himself making too much noise. It doesn’t matter. The show will-must-will-must go on, and he hopes that The Spine and Hatchworth understand that as well as he does, because he’s _not_ letting them stop a performance for him. No one’s going to be disappointed today.

His cooling system is overworking itself, thick oil spilling from his vents in nearly the same volume as the steam. If things keep going this slowly, time might stop completely; his thoughts aren't moving right, and he’s alone here behind the curtains, trying to recall what it was like outside of them and only reliving the sight of that last fearful glance Hatchworth had given him before he was left in the darkness of backstage.

It doesn't occur to him until he realizes there’s some weight on his shoulder, but Michael Reed has been trying to stabilize him for a good minute and a half. Something’s telling him that it won’t be a one-man job this time, because there’s an absolute mess of oil on him and under him. It’s a wonder he knows it, with his vision flickering in and out of complete nothingness by the second. Somehow, he’s lucky enough to gain back his audio processing, though, and through the incessant hissing and ticking of his metal innards trying desperately to keep him running, he can hear the voices of his bandmates. Quiet, but there. Closer to him, Walter Girl Paige is saying something that he can’t make out, perhaps whispering but more likely out of breath.

There’s a clamor, the bright intrusion of the stage lights through the curtain, and then a click as Michael pushes something back into place. The pain, the impossible pain of mechanical ruin that had gripped him moments ago, subsides just enough for him to rework his train of thought into something comprehensible. He’s able to stand, then, though his joints feel like they’re sure to collapse and his clothes are sticking to his casing. Michael’s saying something which takes a moment to come together in his mind. “Rabbit, I know you’re not all right yet, but I’m gonna need you to try and walk with us, okay? We’re going all the way backstage, and then we’re gonna get you back to the mansion for some real repairs. You’re okay.” Shakily, not without twitching, he forces himself to manage a half-stumble in the right direction before trying to speak, trying to tell them that _no, he isn't okay, there’s something wrong_ , but instead he just chokes out more oil.

Paige whispers something to him, soothingly, about not over-exerting himself, and he’s left with a hand closed around Michael’s wrist, though he’s teetering dangerously with every step forward. There are sounds near him that must be coming from The Spine, signature sounds, not of the intricate clockworks that power most Walter automatons but of newer, stronger workings. He hasn't said a word, then, if he’s there. It hits Rabbit at that moment that they've ended the show early. He can’t tell if it’s guilt, anger, or some more plausible, programmable feeling that overtakes him through his confusion, but his knees collapse again for a moment. He wants to tell them to keep going, _just get on with the show_ , but when he tries again to force out words, something luminescent and glaringly blue trickles from his mouth. The Spine starts to speak, but Rabbit doesn’t hear it. He’s gone.

—

The digital clock across the room is displaying a stark 3:42 A.M. when he refocuses, almost unsettled by the complete lack of sensation accompanying his awakening. Michael is talking quietly, either because he’s exhausted or because he doesn’t want to startle Rabbit.

"You’re home now. Have been for a while. Your power core started leaking, Rabbit. It corroded a lot of your cooling system and some of your gears. It’s, uh.. It’s a good thing we left when we did. Blue matter is hard to work with. I had Mr. Walter in here earlier, and.. See, a lot of what’s gone is old. Some of it’s even original, way back from 1896. I did the best I could, and he’s still looking for Peter the First’s records on your structure. We replaced the glass around your core, so we don’t have to worry about leakage again, but.." And then he sighs. It’s odd to listen to humans sigh, usually. The sound of a human sigh is so distinctly organic, different from a puff of steam, as if you can tell it’s been in someone’s lungs.

Michael never does finish that sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually my first SPG fic ever! it's a drabble for now but i might expand it into a series based on ideas a friend and i had if you'd like to see more of core malfunction rabbit. thanks for reading!


	2. confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You stopped the show because of me," Rabbit says, more quietly than he typically speaks. His eyes don't quite meet The Spine's for any prolonged period of time, and he looks rather worse for wear, twitching at random intervals.

The ticking of gears, louder than usual, breaks the near-silence of the room. The Spine is blankly staring at a book on his desk, obviously not reading it but making an honest effort. A slow puff of steam escapes his vents when he realizes that the sound is Rabbit, and he looks in his brother's direction, trying to keep from showing his obvious relief that the other 'bot is okay.

"You stopped the show because of me," Rabbit says, more quietly than he typically speaks. His eyes don't quite meet The Spine's for any prolonged period of time, and he looks rather worse for wear, twitching at random intervals.

"I did." The Spine's expression doesn't change.

"Y-Y-You shoulda kept going." The copper automaton's tone is accusatory, and his eyes narrow slightly. "I had Mike an-an-an-and Miss Paige. We didn't have ta leave."

The Spine, frowning a bit with every word Rabbit doesn't get out right, sighs through his nose, a cloud of steam punctuating the action. "It wouldn't have been right."

"If you'd just given me a -- a -- a -- a few more minutes, I woulda been okay! We ha-ha-ha-had people comin' from outta-a-a-a state for that show, Th' Spine." Haltingly, Rabbit crosses his arms, now making eye contact. His stuttering is only frustrating him more, causing his gears to speed up and click noisily as they struggle. He tries to ignore the evident worry in his brother's expression.

"And I'm sure they understood the situation."

There's a pause, then, the malfunctioning 'bot briefly examining The Spine's face, looking for some sort of giveaway that he wasn't serious, because _surely.._ But he is. He's as serious as ever. Rabbit forces out a humorless huff that was meant to be a laugh. "You hear the way they cheer during Honeybee. It's all -- all -- all -- all part of the show to 'em."

And The Spine, as unmovable as ever -- "Well, now they know it's not." 

Rabbit takes a faltering step or two toward him, the corner of his mouth twitching. _Why's this so hard for him to understand?_ He'd yell if that'd get what he's trying to say across, but it won't. It doesn't work that way. "I _don't_ think that's _a good thing_ ," he forces out, speaking deliberately so as not to repeat words.

The silver 'bot takes a long breath in -- Rabbit almost wants to laugh at that, because they usually only breathe so as not to make humans uncomfortable, and really everyone but The Spine often forgets to -- and replies calmly. "They'll learn to deal with it."

"They won't have to -- I'm n-n-n-n-not doin' this again," Rabbit mutters on impulse.

"What do you mean you're not?" The Spine asks, slowly now, as if he's not expecting to like the answer.

"I'm not havin' you just dro-dro-drop a whole night 'cause I'm glitchin' out!"

"So, what, you're quitting?"

"You know me better'n that."

"Then _tell me what you're doing_ ," The Spine says -- almost a demand, but not quite -- and rises from his chair.

"Nothing!" Rabbit notices he's raised his voice only a few seconds later, and a puff of steam rises from his vents as he tries to gather himself. "I d-d-d-d-don't know." There are a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Rabbit staring at the floor and occasionally twitching, before he speaks again. "Just.. Don't stop it n-n-n-next time. There are songs y'could do without me," he offers, but The Spine doesn't respond. The idea is probably ridiculous to him. The tension in the room seems to dissipate a bit, though, as the rusting automaton shakes his head and tries to give an apologetic smile. It falls from his face when he realizes the question he needs to ask. "How -- how -- how long was I out?"

The Spine glances down a moment and opts for the simple choice, though he knows down to the nanosecond. "Just over a day."

Rabbit blinks hard, like he's trying to force away the guilt that's betrayed itself in his expression. "Mistuh Reed was up this whole time. Knew he looked tired." He mouths something that doesn't make it out of his voice processor, then tries again. "Did he te-te-te-te-tell you guys what was goin' on?" He shakes his head almost as soon as he says it, then continues. "No, 'course he didn't. You'd have asked." When he next speaks, he's going too fast, just trying to get it out before he finds a way of skirting around the matter. "It was -- was -- was -- was, uh, my c-c-c-core. Leaking."

The Spine immediately looks on edge. "And it's fixed now?"

Rabbit doesn't know. He's _pretty_ sure it's fixed. "Yeah. Yeah, Spine, he fixed it. The, uh, the glass was re-re-re-real old, he said." Steam hisses from his vents and a drip of oil runs from one of them, which he quickly wipes away with his sleeve and rushes to explain. "It took one _doozy_ of a bite outta my cooling systems, though. So that's... Still i-i-i-i-in the works. Guess we won't be doin' Captain again for a while, huh?" He adds, giving a nervous chuckle in hopes of lightening the mood. The Spine only shifts a bit and raises an eyebrow slightly. Rabbit lets out a slow sigh, a habit he'd picked up from Peter II. "I _know_ it was worse than usual. I know."

"We were worried," The Spine says, as if Rabbit can do something to fix that.

"You ain't even gone in-in-in-into sleep mode since, have ya?" The copper 'bot asks, sympathetic now. Now that he's slowed down a bit, he can see that The Spine's being honest about worrying, which does nothing to help his guilt about the show. "I can tell. Your voice does that _thing_ ," he explains before his brother has a chance to deny it. Soon after, his gears falter and turn back a moment, then grind slowly back to their normal rate, causing an alarming grating sound and a lapse in Rabbit's control. Oil trickles from his mouth, and as soon as he returns to his senses, he's wiping it off, the stuff smudging against his faceplate. The Spine's face has fallen into something just barely resembling fear, and of course, _of course_ he has to freak out every time Rabbit so much as stutters. "Stop actin' like I'm gonna fa-fa-fa-fa-fa--" and his head twitches to one side, he restarts the word, " _fall apart_ every time somethin' goes wrong." He carries more venom in his tone than he means to. "Believe me, I've heard it! Mike gave me this whole lec-lec-lecture on -- on not ignorin' error warnings or dodgin' repairs, and runnin' diagnostics every few hours, and.." He trails off, trying to will himself to slow down a bit, sure he'll overheat at this rate. "I know you were worried. But I'm not goin' _anywhere._ Okay?"

The Spine doesn't look convinced, his expression saying that he thinks Rabbit is reassuring himself more than anything else. He plays along. "Okay. But you can't hold stopping the show against me."

Rabbit balls one hand into a fist and huffs in frustration, but doesn't argue, instead just giving his brother a look and taking a step back. "It's la-la-la-late," he grumbles. "I've gotta go in for repairs tomorrow. You, uh... G-G-G-Get some rest." And before The Spine has a chance to reply, he's walked out. They'll talk about this later, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! i'll be making this a full-length, multi-chapter fanfic from here on out. enjoy core malfunction rabbit. it only gets worse from here. ;]


End file.
